


The Bowl

by dr_zook



Category: Mugen no Juunin | Blade of the Immortal
Genre: Crossdressing, i mean: there are other ways to read it, if you want to read it that way - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-09
Packaged: 2018-03-06 21:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3149258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_zook/pseuds/dr_zook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt was: <i>Anotsu - women's clothes - goze - begging bowl</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bowl

**Author's Note:**

  * For [liriaen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liriaen/gifts).



> I wrote this years ago, found it again and decided to archive it here--adding only another word. (In case you were wondering where that came from now.) :)

She doesn’t accept their money. She would finally leave and spare them her awful wailing, if she got what she wanted, right? Magastu’s right foot scratches his left calf lazily.  
  
“You are strange,” he informs the ancient goze sitting on their porch. She grins widely, her clouded eyes are cast down.  
  
“Yes,” she says, and sips demurely from her tea.  
  
He had offered her a lot of things: combs, sashes, food. A new bowl for her old battered one. And of course: money. Not exactly a small amount, considering her utter disability to hold tone or rhythm.  
  
Anotsu steps out of the dojo again, a bundle of cloth in his arms. Magatsu’s eyebrow rises. He knows this pattern. He hasn’t seen it for a long time. He swallows.  
  
“What about this?” Anotsu asks, not exactly bothered. He shoves the folded fabric onto the old woman’s lap.  
  
She unfolds and caresses the plain and beautifully crafted kimono. It’s not new anymore. She laughs, “I thought this was some bachelors’ hideout.”  
  
Magatsu swallows and has to plant both his soles onto the wooden planks. The goze isn’t the first nor last person imputing Anotsu to wear women’s clothing. Though the reasons vary. Anotsu’s delicate fingers are planted on his gracious... and slim... hips.  
  
“Ah ha ha, it’s still drenched in an unique woman’s scent, young master. Besides other things,” her voice rasps and her opaque eyes are nervously shifting in their sockets.  
  
Anotsu stares at her. “You take it? Then leave.”  
  
“Yes,” she says and scrambles on her feet. Grabs kimono and instrument, and turns to leave. “Thank you,” she adds hastily, and weasels off the porch.  
  
Magatsu grunts. “I thought she’d never leave.” And he disappears inside, and cannot shake off the diffuse feeling of relief.  
  
Anotsu would stand there fore another few minutes, then join Magatsu again.


End file.
